Another Version of the Truth
by Dexter-Morgan
Summary: Dr WhoLife on Mars Crossover. The Doctor crashlands in 1973, where he meets an intriguing man called Sam Tyler. This is the story of what happens next. Contains eventual slash, strong language, and the rating will increase for naughtiness. Totally AU.
1. Chapter 1

'1973?' The Doctor frowned at the TARDIS console screen. 'What's so special about 1973?'

The TARDIS didn't respond, merely hummed contentedly in it's new parking space.

'Well you're a great help.' The Timelord tutted. 'Well - May as well go for a wander while I'm here. Might even get to catch a few gigs while I'm at it! T-Rex, or someone like that. You know, I haven't seen them since - Well, 1973, actually.'

He pulled on his coat and headed for the door, smiling over his shoulder.

'Don't wait up!'

He spluttered as he walked out of the door, torrential rain soaking through his clothes in seconds. He could only be in one place - Manchester. The one place in England that could produce a downpour while the rest of the country basked in the sun. He rolled his eyes and spotted a glowing sign in the distance, deciding to buy a nice cup of tea and wait for the rain to pass. He tugged his coat and held it closed as he ran towards the doorway beneath the light, groaning slightly when rain soaked through the holes in his battered hi-tops. When he walked through the door, his glasses immediately steamed up. He huffed and pushed them on top of his head, shaking his arms as rainwater dripped from the tips of his fingers. The dim, neon strip light illuminating the dated greasy spoon flickered slightly, _Metal Guru_ ringing out over the crackling wireless radio. A portly looking woman behind the counter leaned over, looking him up and down before grinning.

'Cats and Dogs out there innit, luv?' She beamed.' Can I get yers a brew?'

The Doctor flashed her a wide grin.

'Cuppa tea, please. Nice and strong.' He nodded.

'Ooh, blimey - a _Southerner_!' She chuckled, flapping her wrist exaggeratedly. 'We are privelidged. I'll use me best china, shall I?'

The Doctor laughed, peeling his coat from damp shoulders. 'Your finest chipped mug with a crude slogan will do just nicely, thanks.'

'Ooh, I like you.' She crowed, house-slippered feet shuffling off towards the back. 'You can come again!'

The Doctor shook his head and sat down, placing his jacket on the seat beside him. He rested his chin in his hand and watched the rain hammering against the window - the dark street illuminated by flickers of lightening in the distance. Pulling his sleeve over his hand, he wiped at the condensation, watching a young couple huddle under an umbrella as they raced to get away from the rain.

It was the rare times like these he really appreciated - being allowed a brief respite from the running around, battling against whatever force had decided to cause trouble on any given day. He enjoyed just being able to sit, and watch this tiny little planet go about it's business. Even if the weather was predominantly rubbish.

'Wait. Wait!'

The Doctor frowned as he heard a voice from the other corner of the room. He raised his eyebrow at another man, sat with his back to him and his hands clamped to either side of his head. The leather of his jacket creaking slightly as he pressed his fingers against his skull.

'Mum? Tell him! I can hear you!' The voice yelled again. 'I'm still here!'

The Doctor leaned back in his seat. It was too early for mobile phones, never mind bluetooth headsets - So who on earth was he talking to? He rolled his eyes slightly, realising that he may have just run into the reason the TARDIS decided to touch down in 1973.

Never a minute's peace.

The woman from behind the counter placed his mug of tea on the table and smiled.

'Excuse me?' The Doctor asked. 'Who is that man over there?'

She rolled her eyes and folded her arms.

'Oh, that's Sam.' She nodded. 'Local copper. He's always comin' in here, falling asleep and shouting - scaring away my bloody customers!'

'Oh..' The Doctor said, looking back over to where Sam was sitting. Sam didn't look very asleep to him.

'Sam!' The woman yelled, waddling over to his table and patting him on the back. 'You're talking in your sleep again, love. C'mon - you've got a bloody home to go to. Go and get some sleep!'

Sam span around, and The Doctor could see his breathing was heavy, startled by the woman's shouting.

'Shit. Sorry, Moll.' He stammered, running a hand over his face. 'Look - I'll go in a few minutes, yeah? When the rain's stopped. Can I have another coffee before I go?'

She rolled her eyes and nodded, shuffling back towards her kitchen. She pointed at The Doctor.

'You! Make sure he doesn't nod off again, or I'll kick the pair of you out, pissing down or not!'

The Doctor grinned cheekily at her and rose to his feet, walking over to Sam's table. He tapped against the plastic-coated chipboard and smiled at the other man.

'D'you mind if I sit here?'

Sam shrugged, his gaze distant. Clearly his mind was on other things.

'Listen, I couldn't help but hear you-'

'It's nothing.' Sam snapped, a faint grin tugging at his lips. 'And besides, you wouldn't believe me if I told you.'

'Oh,' The Doctor said, leaning back in his seat and letting out a puff of air. 'Dunno about that.'

Sam laughed incredulously, shaking his head.

'I do.' He smirked, tapping his fingernails against the third empty mug on the table. 'Who are you, anyway? I may as well ask, seeing as you've been ordered to babysit me.'

'The Doctor.' He nodded.

'The Doctor?' Sam smirked. 'Doctor what?'

The Doctor folded his arms.

'Just - The Doctor.'

'Well, aren't we enigmatic!' The other man snorted as Moll came to put a mug of coffee in front of him. 'Hear this, Moll? He's _The Doctor_.'

'Good job.' She smiled, walking away. 'You'll bloody need one if you fall asleep in my caff again.'

'Well, I only know you as 'Sam' - You could be anyone!' The Doctor retorted.

'Sam Tyler.' Sam nodded. 'DI Sam Tyler.'

'Tyler?' The Doctor questioned, blinking at him.

'What?'

'Oh - er - nothing.' He shrugged. 'I had a friend called Tyler, once. That's all.'

'Ah.' He grinned. 'Well there we go, a tenuous link.'

'So, anyway.' The Doctor continued to press. 'You weren't asleep, were you?'

Sam folded his arms.

'When you were shouting - You weren't asleep.' He continued. 'Who were you talking to?'

'My - nobody.' Sam frowned, certainly not feeling comfortable enough to reveal anything significant to the stranger sat opposite him. 'And what business is it of yours, anyway?'

'Humour me. I'm the curious type.'

'Evidently.' Sam tutted, sipping at his drink. 'Look - Can I ask you something?'

The Doctor shrugged, peering over as he sipped carefully on his steaming drink.

'Have you ever felt like - like you're completely out of your time?' He almost whispered, leaning forward slightly. 'Like - you're stuck somewhere that has no concept of anything you're familiar with?'

A slight grin tugged at the Doctor's mouth, amused at the irony of the question.

'A bit, yeah.'

Sam looked at him, and tilted his head.

'You know, you're the first person who's ever said 'yes' to that question.'

'Well,' The Doctor grinned. 'I'm not from around these parts. Could be why.'

Sam frowned, looking away slightly as he nodded.

'Could be.'

He leaned forward again. 'Who are you, Doctor?'

'If I told you,' He smirked. 'You wouldn't believe me.'

Sam raised his eyebrows at the Doctor - This was beginning to get a little bit wierd. He cleared his throat and sat back in his seat, his gaze still fixed on his new companion.

'So, _Doctor_,'

'Mm?'

'D'you fancy a drink?'

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nelson was ringing the bell for last orders as they arrived at the Railway Arms, and there were few patrons remaining. Sam grinned at the one person who appeared to have no intention of leaving any time soon - hunched over the bar with a scotch in his hand, slurring and cursing about something as he teetered on his stool.

'Alright, Guv?'

'Fook off, bass'd.'

'It's me, Guv.'

Gene Hunt clumsily span around on his seat, holding his arms aloft.

'Sammy-boy!' He bellowed, punctuated by a loud belch. 'Where y'bin? Nelson's been 'andin out freebies.'

'Oh, out and about.' He nodded.

''Oo's this?' Gene growled, gesturing towards the tall, thin man stood behind Sam. 'S'this yer girlfriend, Tyler?'

'No, Gene.' Sam said, the roll of his eyes betraying his patient tone of voice. 'This is the-'

'John Smith.' The Doctor grinned, stepping out from behind Sam and gripping Gene's outstretched hand, shaking it firmly. 'I'm a mate of Sam's - thinking of joining the force, so he invited me to see how you lot do it up here.'

'Bloody southern poof.' Gene grumbled, watching his hand be shaken vigorously. 'Gerroff me, Daisy.'

'Guv!' Sam exclaimed, fearing the Doctor might about to be on the recieving end of a trademark Hunt beating.

'What?' He growled back. 'I tell you what - I might -_ might_ let him 'ang around like a bad smell and be a pain in me arse - if 'e can complete my challenge.'

'Oh yeah?' The Doctor smirked, raising an eyebrow. 'What's that?'

Gene turned around to Nelson.

'Nelson! A bottle of your finest scotch please, my good man!'

Nelson stopped drying the glass he had in his hands and turned to Gene, rolling his eyes.

'Gene, not another one. That's the third time you've done it this week! I might want to get to bed tonight!'

'Well we can lock up for yer! You wouldn't be disobeying a police officer, would yer?'

Nelson shot a despairing look at Sam, who could do nothing but shake his head in exasperation. The only upside to this was that Gene had already had a skinful, and wasn't likely to last more than a few hours. On the downside, he feared for the state of his new friend once this was over. He's seen many a man fall to Gene Hunt and his ridiculously excessive constitution for alcohol.

The barman relutantly handed over the bottle and three shot glasses. Sam would be roped in to adjudicate - he always was when Gene decided to hold one of his little competitions - and get a few whiskeys for his trouble.

'C'mon, you lanky streak of piss - Last one to fall is the victor.'

The Doctor glanced at Sam mischeviously before slapping Gene's shoulder.

'Let battle commence!'

-------------------------------------------------------------

Sam could scarcely take it in. He blinked at Gene, head on the table and an unattractive string of drool hanging from the corner of his mouth.

'How?'

'Well, it's -' The Doctor paused, taking a considered sip of scotch. 'this thing I have. With booze. It takes a lot longer to get around my system.'

'But it's _Gene!_' Nobody on this planet could ever drink Gene Hunt under the table. I've seen it! Big hairy biker types, local 'ard-nuts. Not one of them have ever been able to do it. I swear, you aren't human!'

'You might be right there, Sam.' The Doctor smirked, lips pressed to the rim of his glass. 'You're a very persh- pershep. Oh blimey, here it comes.'

'The booze?'

The Doctor nodded, swaying slightly in his seat, his eyes suddenly becoming glassy. Sam let out an exhausted sigh and stood up, tossing Nelson's keys in his hand and gesturing towards the door.

'Come on. You might want to have a lie down.'

The Doctor grinned dopily and stood up unsteadily, almost tripping over his own feet as he stepped out from behind the table. Sam caught his arm and guided him towards the door and out onto the street. The Doctor's knees buckled and he sank to the floor like a broken marionette. Sam rolled his eyes and turned around as he realised body attached to the arm he was holding had become a dead weight.

'1973!' The Doctor giggled. 'Ended up in 1973 to have a drinking competition with an overweight copper. Brilliant!'

Sam's eyes widened and he let go of the Doctor's arm.

'_Ended up _in 1973?' He questioned. 'What do you mean by that?'

'I'll tell you.' The Doctor nodded, staggering to his feet and throwing an arm over Sam's shoulder. 'If you can take me somewhere I'd be able to get a nice cup of tea.'

Sam tutted, locking an arm around the taller man's waist and assisting him up the road. He felt his surprisingly light body leaning heavily on him for support and wondered why most of the people he seemed to encounter in 1973 were complete headcases.

It was either that, or this was all in his mind - and _he_ was the headcase for dreaming them up.


	2. Chapter 2

'So, how come you never told _me_ your name, _John Smith_?'

Sam sat, cross-legged with questioning eyes, at one end of the bed whilst The Doctor, or John Smith, (_or whatever he was bloody called_) rested with his feet up, head propped against one solitary pillow. He shifted slightly, and brought the cup of tea to his lips, taking a considered sip. He eyed Sam for a moment, as if weighing up wether he should really be telling him this.

'Because it isn't.' He said plainly, leaning on one elbow as he continued to watch the man at the end of the bed, the expression on his face bordering on suspicion.

'But you told the Guv' that-'

The Doctor shook his head slowly.

'It's just a name I have. In case anyone asks, well-' The Doctor interrupted himself, puffing his cheeks out slightly. 'Around here, anyway.'

'What - Manchester?'

Sam's nose wrinkled.

'So, who're you on the run from? All this pseudonym bollocks. John Smith, _The Doctor_. There must be someone after you. Nobody changes their name all the time for the hell of it. Unless they're a nutter, of course.'

The Doctor couldn't help but snort into his teacup.

'Maybe I'm both.'

Sam's face cracked into a broad grin.

'Eh, you're harmless enough. If you were gonna do me in, you'd have done it by now.'

The Doctor smirked and rolled onto his stomach, a bony arm reaching down to place the teacup on the floor by the bed. He turned back again, flopping backwards with a groan. The giddiness of alcohol was short lived, and soon replaced by a dull throbbing in his skull. Sam tilted his head and watched him rub his temples.

'Want some painkillers?'

'Ooh, no.' He winced, sucking in air through pursed lips. 'I'm.. allergic.'

'Ah.'

'Yeah.' The Doctor nodded, furrowing his brow a little. 'Head swells up like a balloon, and it might kill me. And you really don't want to be around if that happens, trust me.'

Sam stared at him for a moment, struck dumb by the bizarreness of that last statement. He shook his head and cleared his throat, remembering that wouldn't be the first time that someone around here had said something bloody odd.

'And what about you, Sam Tyler?' The Doctor said, leaning forward. 'What was all that about before? About being out of your time? I'd say I'm not the only one being a bit of an enigma round here.'

'Honestly,' Sam laughed, shaking his head. 'I mean what I said before - you wouldn't believe me if I told you.'

'Try me.'

There was something about the look on the Doctor's face that made Sam think that maybe, just for once, he might be able to tell someone about what had happened to him without them recommending that he visit a shrink. Annie listened, of course. Annie always listened - even if she did always have a look on her face that said her mind was just telling her to smile and nod, let the crazy man waffle on.

'I had an accident.' He paused momentarily, taking a deep breath. 'In 2006.'

'Right.'

The Doctor's face didn't even show a hint of a flinch. Strange.

'And now - I'm here. In 1973.'

Another deep breath.

'I - I don't know if I'm really here, you know? It feels real. All this. Completely real.'

'But?'

'All the time, in my head - I can hear 2006.' Sam swallowed. 'I can hear the life support machine beeping... constantly. I can hear my mum talking to me - telling me to wake up, and that I'll be coming home soon.'

The Doctor just nodded. Sam was sure he couldn't have heard of anything like this before, so why was he so calm? There again, he supposed, he _did_ say he was a Doctor..

'The only thing that I can assume, is that I'm in a coma in 2006, and this is all just going on in my head. You're not real. _I'm_ not even real! I'm a figment of my _own_ imagination. How bloody cracked is that?'

The Doctor didn't say anything. He was stumped, if he was honest. He knew Sam was real, and he certainly knew_ he_ was real - so quite how Sam had ended up in 1973 was somewhat of a conundrum.

'Oh, I don't know.' The Doctor smiled, 'You wouldn't _believe_ some of the things I've heard.'

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As the evening wore on, Sam showed him his notes on 2006 - His little package that reassured him that he really wasn't a nutter. The Doctor read carefully, black glasses perched on the end of his nose. All the details were so fine-pointed, so minute -technological advances and even the spec of his mobile phone - This wasn't the work of someone who was confused about where they came from.

'So?' Sam said as the other man closed the book. 'Am I insane?'

'No.'

'And you would know this, how - exactly?' He smiled, a small smile of relief. 'Don't tell me. You're a time traveller - and you decided that you'd drop in on 1973 for a teabreak?'

'Well, now you mention it..'

'Oh, piss off.' Sam scoffed. 'Now I _know_ I'm imagining all of this.'

'Sam.' The Doctor said flatly. 'I can assure you that you're not. I'm real - you're real. All of this is completely real. The only question is, how you managed to get here in the first place.'

'And what question do you think I've been asking since I got here?' Sam snapped, before rubbing his face in exasperation. 'Jesus Christ. I've found the one person who's more mental than I am.'

'I'm not mental!' The Doctor cried. 'Well. Maybe a bit. But that's not the point! All I can assume from what's happened, is that somehow when you had the accident - you somehow managed to slip through some kind of rift in time. I don't know how, and I don't know why, but-'

'That doesn't explain the noises in my head though, does it?' He frowned. 'If I'm here, then there'd be no hospital bed, no Mum telling me to wake up - No beeping.'

'Yeah.' The Doctor nodded slowly, rubbing his chin. 'That's where I'm stuck, too. Unless of course, it's just a side-effect of the accident. Knock to the head can do funny things to someone.'

'Oh, this is ridiculous!' Sam groaned, throwing himself back on the bed. 'I don't believe I even entertained that thought for a bloody second. Time rifts? Christ.'

'I can prove it to you.' Came the response - an earnest voice and a steely expression that made Sam sit up and take note.

'And if I'm right - if you can just open your mind to the prospect that maybe - just _maybe_ - I'm telling the truth, then Sam Tyler - I might just be able to get you home.'

-----------------------------------------------------------

Sam and The Doctor walked together towards the bank of the Canal. They'd seen Moll from the cafe as she left, greeting her with a cheery wave and getting a rather bemused look in return.

'I thought you were tired, Sam!' She smiled as she bustled away, laden with shopping bags.

Sam frowned, tugging his coat tighter around himself in the biting wind.

_Bloody Manchester weather. It's July for christ's sake!_

The moonlight vanished as they walked under the bridge and he found himself walking closer to The Doctor. Gene had told him what it was like round this way at night.

_'Foul bastard creatures round that way, Tyler. Junkies, muggers and fairies - A congregation of the scum of the earth. If you know what's good for you, you'll keep out of there after dark. Leave the bastards to it._

He couldn't manage to repress the grin that tugged at his mouth. Good old Gene - always ready with a kind word in your shell-like. He wondered if he'd miss him when he was safely back in 2006. That thought was quickly replaced with a stern telling off for believing that The Doctor wasn't mad and wasn't talking out of his arse.

_Christ. What if he's a murderer? What if he's done all this just to get me down here, roger me to death and then dump me in the canal?_

Then he cursed himself again for thinking that if his last memory was getting buggered by the Doctor, then it better be something worth remembering. Go out with a bang, so to speak. After all, it could be worse. At least he's not a bad looking bloke - not some sweaty, hairy, tattooed beast in a string vest looming over-

_Gladys._

'Shut up, Gene.'

He inadvertently said the last part out loud, causing the Doctor to glance over his shoulder.

'You're an odd one, Sam Tyler.'

'I could say the same about you, _Doctor_.' Sam smirked, shaking his head. 'And why exactly are you bringing me down here?'

'I've got something to show you.'

_I bet you say that to all your victims._

'Oh.' He nodded, thankful that his previous thought didn't manage to escape via his mouth. They stopped at the other end of the bridge, and The Doctor's face lit up.

'Here we are!'

Sam glared at The Doctor, then stared at the blue police box in front of him.

'Yeah. Very fucking funny, Doc.' He sneered, about to walk away.

'Wait! Don't you want to see inside?' The Timelord grinned, patting the door affectionately.

'I think I know what the inside of a police call-box looks like, thanks very much.' He scowled, stalking away and flicking the V's behind him. 'Bloody piss-taker.'

'Oh Sam, _wait_!' He groaned, chasing after him and placing a hand on his shoulder. 'Please, just-'

'Gerroff me!' Sam yelled, shrugging away. 'We're not far from the street, you know. People'll hear me shouting for 'elp!'

'Help? What - Sam, what are you talking about?' The Doctor frowned, confused - before the realisation hit him. 'Oh you - What?'

He let out a high-pitched cackle.

'Oh, Sam. No.' He chortled, pointing his thumb back at the box. 'That's my time machine.'

'Have I got 'Mug' written on my bastard forehead?!' Sam bellowed, shoving The Doctor's shoulder aggressively. 'You know what, I don't know who to be more bloody angry at. You for wasting my bloody time - or me for thinking for a _microsecond_ that you weren't talking bollocks.'

He snarled, turning on his heels and stalking back towards the darkness beneath the bridge. The Doctor frowned, but didn't chase him. He chewed his lower lip for a moment, before racing back towards The TARDIS and disappearing inside.

'Stupid bastard.' Sam swore darkly, his feet stamping against the uneven Tarmac. His stomach tightened and he swallowed hard, trying not to be upset that he'd been taken in by something so ridiculous in the hope that he might actually get home this time. He continued to curse and scowl as he walked until something at the mouth of the tunnel stopped him dead in his tracks. He squinted away from a bright light, managing to pin himself against the wall as an unbelievably strong gust of wind, seemingly from out of nowhere, blasted him backwards.

His breathing unsteady, he dug his fingers into the damp stone bricks - just about able to make out an oblong shape through his half-closed eyes, and it was making a noise like he'd never heard before, in either year he'd resided. He bit his lip, every nerve in his body telling him to run. Whatever this thing was, it was frightening him and he couldn't even figure out why.

Eventually, the noise faded to nothing and everything once again became calm. The Manchester breeze was still cold, but it certainly wasn't enough to blow him into the Canal. The light dimmed and his eyes opened again slowly. In front of him, stood the same blue police box that The Doctor had tried to get him into just moments before. The exact same one. And unless it was made of cardboard, he really couldn't imagine that a skinny bloke like The Doctor would be able to sneak it around to it's current position. He stepped forward gingerly, rapping his knuckles against the door - just to prove to himself that it really wasn't made of cardboard.

'Oi!' The Doctor shouted as he swung the door open, sending Sam staggering backwards a couple of steps. 'D'you mind?'

'Jesus.' Sam said breathlessly, pointing a shaking finger at The TARDIS. 'How - How did you do that?'

'Told you.' He grinned. 'It's a time machine. C'mon!'

He disappeared back inside and Sam carefully walked forwards. He swallowed, rubbing his hand along the blue-painted wood before pushing the door open.

_It's a time machine._

He repeated in his mind as he stepped inside. The sheer vastness of the interior almost ripping the air from his lungs in an almighty gasp. He stood for a moment, eyes wildly studying the walls and everything it contained. Every last detail. A calming hum seemed to emanate from the walls, and he wondered if he was the only one who could hear it. He wondered just why exactly - despite it's completely alien appearance and his initial fear - this place seemed so very... _comfortable_.

'TARDIS, this is Sam. Sam -' The Doctor paused, a mischevious grin on his face. 'This is the TARDIS. Still think I'm going to kill you and dump your body in the canal?'

'No.' He said quietly, still taking everything in. _breathing_ it in.

He shook his head vigorously, snapping out of whatever reverie he may have been in.

'So - This sleek little number is my ticket back home, eh?'

'Well, I suppose that depends.' The Doctor said, leaning against the console - wide eyes raised to the ceiling.

'Depends? Depends on what?!' Sam barked, exasperated. He was in no mood for games.

'Well,' He said, reaching inside his coat pocket and pulling out a crumpled piece of paper. He passed it over to Sam and he pouted slightly. 'I always regretted never getting to see him live..'

Sam looked puzzled for a moment as he unfurled the yellowing newspaper, straightening it out before reading it's contents aloud.

'Marc Bolan and T-Rex - Live at the Ritz Ballroom, July 31st.'

He chuckled and shook his head, throwing the advert back to The Doctor.

'Doctor, I think you've got yourself a deal.'


	3. Chapter 3

Sam and The Doctor stopped at the crossing on Oxford Road and grinned at each other.

'Here we are, then!' The Timelord declared. 'The Ritz Ballroom!'

The neon sign glowed on the other side of the road, and they stood together as throngs of people bustled past them on their way to the show. Feather-boa clad girls racing, arm-in-arm to catch a glimpse of their androgynous hero from the best possible vantage point.

'You still haven't explained how we're actually going to get in.' Sam said, glancing over to The Doctor.

'Yeah, well. Adds to the mystique, doesn't it? Keeps you guessing.' He smirked.

'Just get on with it, smart arse.'

The Doctor rolled his eyes and muttered something about Sam's impatience as he walked across the road, looking over his shoulder and beckoning Sam to follow. The DI's eyes narrowed when The Doctor didn't head for the front entrance, and slipped down an alleyway to the left of the building. He raced to catch up, grabbing The Doctor's coat and pulling him back.

'Hey. We're not breaking in, are we? I'm a copper. I can't be seen to be breaking in-'

'We're not breaking in! Just - trust me, okay?'

Sam wrinkled his nose at the Doctor and followed as he started walking again, around the back of the building. He stopped outside the back door and gave it a hard knock.

'What the 'ell are you doing?' Sam questioned.

'Shush a minute!' The Doctor snapped as a burly, perpetually annoyed-looking man opened the door.

'Passes.' He said bluntly, eyeing the pair of them with suspicion.

The Doctor smiled and held out his wallet, which Sam could clearly see bore nothing more than a blank bit of paper. This was never going to work, he thought, and resigned himself to the fact that he'd been spending a worrying amount of time with a complete mentalist. The man glared at The Doctor, and then at Sam - who was wholeheartedly preparing himself for a sound kicking for taking the piss.

'In you go, lads.' He nodded.

The Doctor cocked his head and smiled.

'You heard the man, Sam!'

Sam looked at the Doctor, momentarily perplexed, before following him in through the door that the thick-set man was holding open for them.

'Ave a good night, fellas.' He said gruffly.

'Now, which way is it..?' The Doctor thought aloud before Sam caught up with him and nudged his arm.

'What was that all about? There was nothing on that bit of paper!'

'Oh, but there was!' The Doctor grinned. 'It's psychic paper. He saw whatever I wanted him to see - Which was, in this case, a Doctor-Plus-One for this very gig. Thought you might want to meet the man himself before the show!'

'Psychic paper. Now I have heard it all.' Sam scoffed. 'And - I've already met Marc Bolan before, actually.'

'So have I.' The Doctor said boastfully. 'Nice bloke, isn't he?'

Sam shrugged.

'He told me to sort my hair out.' He grumbled. 'Hang on - I thought you said you never got chance to see him live?'

'Well,' The Doctor frowned. 'I got to_ meet_ him. I couldn't stick around for the show. Had a bit of an incident. With a big slimy thing. In the toilets.'

'Urgh.' Sam cringed. 'I don't think I want to know!'

'Not like that, you filthy man!' The Doctor gasped. 'It was a Vonkaabel.'

'A what?'

'A Vonkaa- Never mind that now, Sam!' The Doctor said snippily. 'The point is, I never actually got to see the gig and I thought I'd drop in while I was at it. Say hello to the man, seeing as I'm not likely to get much chance again after tonight.'

Sam nodded and let himself be led down a maze of backstage corridors, until they came to a door with a hastily pinned on star. The Doctor knocked gently and a voice called for him to enter.

'Doctor!' The thin man at the opposite end of the room beamed, getting from his seat to envelop him in a friendly hug. 'Long time, no see!'

'Good to see you again, Marc.' The Doctor smiled warmly. 'This is my friend, Sam.'

'Oh, the copper!' He exclaimed, 'We've already met. I'd remember that haircut anywhere. Still not fixed it then, I see?'

Sam smiled, secretly wishing the floor would swallow him up. Marc Bolan telling him he had a crap haircut - He couldn't think of anything more bloody embarrassing.

'Not yet - I'm thinking of growing it out. What do you reckon?'

'Best idea you probably ever had, love.' Marc beamed, before gesturing towards a Party 7 on the dressing room table. 'Fancy a drink, boys?'

The Doctor and Sam accepted the offer and were duly handed a plastic pint of beer each. Mark perched on the table, his thick curls of hair illuminated by the lighted mirror behind him. He kicked his legs and took a mouthful of beer.

'Now this doesn't seem like your dressing room, Marc.' The Doctor noted. 'Last time I met you, this place was full of people!'

'Well,' He smiled ruefully. 'You get to find out who your mates are when your hits aren't always hitting number one and the money stops rolling in as fast. I'm glad you came, though. With your copper.'

'Sam's a mate of mine - I'm giving him a hand with some.. work stuff.'

'Say no more.' Marc smiled. 'As long as he's not on duty now..'

'Not right now, no.' Sam said, shaking his head.

'Good, then you don't mind if I-' He stopped, pulling out a large joint from behind the Party 7. 'Pre-gig preparation. Purely medicinal, you understand?'

'Go on, then.' Sam said - fighting with all his might to refrain from putting on his 'Policeman Sam' hat and giving Marc a sound telling off. 'Just this once.'

'Laughin'.' He grinned, lighting the long cigarette and inhaling deeply. 'You're a good lad.'

He took another deep drag and offered it over to The Doctor, who took it and then passed it over to Sam - without taking so much as a sniff - who looked at it for a moment, having an internal moral debate before concluding that if this was his last night in 1973, then he should probably make the most of it. He smiled and took a long drag, visibly slumping back in his chair.

'Oh, I forgot.' Marc said softly. 'Sorry, Doctor. Doesn't agree with you, does it?'

'Unfortunately.' The Doctor huffed grimly.

'Like asprin?' Sam queried.

'Yes. Exactly like asprin, mores the pity.'

Sam tutted sympathetically and passed the joint back to Marc, who took another deep toke.

'Well, lads.' He said, a little sadly. 'I've got to get myself ready to go on, soon. You're more than welcome to come for a drink with me and the band afterwards, though - if you'd like?'

The Doctor got to his feet and grinned.

'You try and stop us eh, Sam?'

Sam smiled dopily and nodded, reaching out to shake Marc's hand.

'It's been a pleasure, Marc.' He said sincerely. 'You're a legend.'

'Likewise!' He drawled charmingly. 'Although - what you said last time I saw you, about cars? What did you mean by that?'

'Oh, I just meant that yo-ow!'

Sam's explaination was curtailed by a sharp elbow to the ribs from The Doctor. He turned, and The Doctor was glaring at him, lips pressed together and shaking his head furiously.

'I just meant - drive safe. That's all.'

'Oh, well. I don't drive, anyway! Nothing to worry about there, Guv'nor.'

'No, I - I suppose not.' Sam smiled fakely.

'We'll see you later, Marc.' The Doctor interrupted. 'Have a good show.'

'I'll try my best!' He smiled, courteously opening the door for his visitors. 'See you later!'

The door clicked shut behind them and Sam scowled at The Doctor.

'What was that all about?'

'What?'

'We could've saved that man's life, just then! Why wouldn't you let me tell him?'

The Doctor ushered Sam down the corridor, out of earshot from the artist behind the door.

'Because you can't mess with things like that, Sam. Interfering with other people's timelines has a direct effect on everything else. You can only ever right something that's gone completely wrong.'

'But that is wrong, Doctor! He's too young! Surely you could make an exception - just this once?'

'It's just his time to go, Sam.' The Doctor said sadly. 'We can't change it.'

Sam frowned and gazed at the floor.

'But he's such a nice bloke.'

'The good often die young, unfortunately.' The Doctor sighed. 'And I'm 900 years old - so quite what that says about me, I really don't know.'

'900? Get off with yer.' Sam scoffed. 'If you're 900 years old, I'll eat my own leg.'

'Well,' He smiled. 'Let's get this gig over with, and I'll take you to a kebab house where they'd be more than happy to lop it off, prepare it for you, and share it with their customers!'

'I think I'll pass on that one, somehow.' He snorted, as they headed out towards the stage.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_'And It's plain to see, you were meant for me - Yeah! I'm your toy, you're 20th Century Boy..'_

Amongst the swaying masses, two individuals stood on the outskirts of the crowd, watching a doomed young man preen and pout onstage. They clutched their drinks and danced about wildly - enjoying the excuse to behave like fools. They pushed the thought of the man's fate to the back of their minds.

Because you have to.

If you spent your every waking moment, thinking about what terrible things lay in store for everyone you'd ever met - then you wouldn't have time for anything else, would you?

_Telegram Sam, you're my main man!_

Sam glanced over his shoulder and the slender, wiry boy with curly hair was leaning over the stage, singing to him with a smile on his face. Sam smiled back and gave a wordless thanks - himself and the Doctor raising their glasses and letting out a loud roar of appreciation.

Sam made a mental note to put this at the top of his 'Best Ever Gigs' list, and carried on dancing.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

'Oh my god!' Sam yelped gleefully as he barrelled through the door of the bedsit. 'That was unreal.'

The Doctor followed closely behind, chuckling.

'Well, maybe when you're back in 2006 you could return the favour. Take me to see the Spice Girls or something.'

'Spice Girls?!' Sam turned, raising his eyebrows incredulously. 'I actually _have_ some taste in music, thanks very much. And besides, The Spice Girls split up, didn't they?'

'Oh, of course - I forgot.' The Doctor nodded. '2007. They get back together, then.'

Sam's nose wrinkled in disgust.

'Why is it that all the shite bands realise that they can't make money on the back of their own negligible talent and get back together, whilst all the decent ones never do? Pisses me right off.'

The Doctor gave him a shrug and a smile and put his jacket over the back of the armchair. Sam headed for the kitchen and returned with a bottle of wine and two glasses.

'If I didn't know better, Sam Tyler - I'd say you were trying to get me drunk!'

'In your dreams, Doctor!' Came the cheeky reply. 'And besides - It's a celebration. I get to go home, tomorrow! I might end up going home with a hangover, but the fact still remains - I'm going home!'

'Well,' The Doctor grinned, accepting the glass of Red being offered. 'Can't argue with that, can I?

'Absolutely not.'

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

'So,' Sam said, turning his head towards the Doctor who was laying beside him, pensively staring at the ceiling. 'You were going to tell me what a Timelord is.'

The Doctor took a deep breath and nodded. He sat up slightly, reached down for his glass and took a mouthful of wine - the warm, creeping sensation of alcohol swelling in his stomach. He returned to his original position and turned on his side, head resting on his hand.

'Right. Well - The Timelords were a race of exactly that - Lords of time. Surveyors of space and time, with the ability to travel to any point of either and intervene if neccasary, I suppose. Not that many of them really did. Well, except for me.'

'Go on, then.' Sam smiled. 'Where're you from? Venus? Pluto?'

'Oh, you stupid apes.' The Doctor tutted, rolling his eyes. 'There are planets outside of your solar system, you know? The Timelords were from Gallifrey. _I'm_ from Gallifrey.'

_Gallifrey.._

The word resounded in Sam's head. He wasn't sure why, or how, but it sounded strangely familiar. Must've read it in a comic or something..

'Gallifrey?' Sam repeated. 'I'm sure I've heard of it.'

The Doctor glared at Sam, perplexed.

'I doubt that, Sam.'

'I have, I swear!' He nodded. 'I don't know where, but it's-'

'It's impossible.' The Doctor said quietly. 'For a start - It doesn't even exist. Not anymore.'

Sam frowned at The Doctor, tilting his head slightly. The sadness in The Timelord's eyes was plain to see - and for some reason, he could almost _feel _it. He swallowed, adjusting the pillow beneath him.

'So what happened?'

The Doctor looked down, loath to explain what had happened to Gallifrey. He'd explained it so many times, to so many people, it was becoming more like a rehearsed speech than anything else - and yet it never became any less gut-wrenching. He cleared his throat and got comfortable, ready to roll it out for what felt like the thousandth time.

'It burnt.' He said tersely, looking down and fiddling with the hem of the blanket. 'There was a war, and it burnt.'

'Jesus.' Sam said quietly, watching The Doctor's slim fingers and the slight tremor in them. 'A war against who?'

'The Daleks, our oldest enemy. A race of - well, killing machines, essentially. Devoid of emotion, feelings.. The perfect killer.'

Sam nodded, listening patiently - compelled to reach for the hand in front of him and give it a slight squeeze, urging The Doctor to continue. The Timelord regarded it, but did not comment - continuing his story;

'The Timelords and The Daleks battled for years - to the point where both planets were ravaged by the conflict. So many lives were lost. _Too_ many. It was decided that for the universe to survive - to stop the war spilling out and destroying everything in it's path - it had to be ended, definitively.'

Sam swallowed once, a sinking feeling that he couldn't comprehend swelling in his gut.

'I was commanded to be the one to end it - travelling outside of the blast zone in the TARDIS to set a device off that would destroy both Gallifrey and The Daleks - wipe it all out of existence for the good of the rest.' He added sombrely. 'I had to sit and watch, while my home - while everyone and everything - was consumed by fire. Until everything was nothing more than particles of dust in the wind.'

'Everything was destroyed?' Sam questioned, a sudden thickness in his throat that made it difficult for the words to emerge. 'Everything?'

The Doctor nodded once, eyes downcast. Sam continued to grip The Doctor's hand - Still unsure why he'd done it in the first place. He swore he could feel the despair radiating from The Doctor, but chose not to mention it for fear of sounding odd. Then again, he was holding hands with what was essentially an alien - but strangely enough, that felt completely normal. What wasn't normal, however, was the rising lump in his throat and the feeling in his belly that wasn't going away. He'd heard enough sob stories in his time to fill the Titanic - his own being one of them - but the thought of this alien planet that he'd never been to being burnt to a crisp was enough to make him falter? Now, that was strange, even if it was impossibly sad.

The Doctor looks up, noticing Sam's discomfort immediately. He gave the hand gripping his a slight squeeze. Sam worried his lower lip with his teeth and glanced up, blinking at The Doctor with an unexpected stinging sensation in his eyes.

'However do you cope?' He questioned softly. 'Knowing all of that happened. How on earth do you manage to function after something like that?'

The Doctor couldn't really answer. He wasn't even sure himself, if he was honest.

'Oh, you know - I keep myself busy.' He said, trying to maintain some kind of enthusiasm in his voice. 'I get by.'

He took a deep breath as Sam's eyes continued to study him. He shook his head slightly and began to get up from the bed.

'Anyway, I'd best leave you to get some sleep. I'll take the chair tonight - It was very good of you to lend me the bed last night, but I'm fairly sure you need a bit more sleep than I do.'

'No.' Sam said, catching hold of The Doctor's sleeve as he went to get up. 'Honestly - It's really uncomfy, that chair. Besides, you don't take up much room - skinny sod - I'm sure we can both fit on here for one night.'

'Why?' The Doctor smiled. 'Scared I'm going to run off before the morning?'

'Maybe.' Sam smiled back. 'And maybe I'm scared I'm going to wake up in the morning and this will all have been another bloody hallucination.'

'I can assure you it's no-'

'Stay.' He said firmly. 'Please.'

The Doctor sighed slightly and nodded, understanding Sam's worry. He swung his legs back onto the bed and returned to where he'd been laying. Sam shifted down, tugging out the blanket and pulling it over his shoulders.

'G'nite, Doctor.' He smiled, closing his eyes.

The Doctor was taken by surprise when five minutes later, a softly-snoring Sam snaked an arm around his waist. The Doctor looked down at it for a moment, slightly puzzled - before closing his own eyes and nuzzling his head against the one pillow that they shared.

'G'nite, Sam Tyler.'

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The alarm rang out at 6:00AM - And Sam had barely slept. He groaned, initially a bit baffled by the presence of another in his bed before his brain engaged enough to remember the last night's events. He shifted up the bed and leaned over The Doctor, batting the alarm clock with the tips of his fingers until the ringing stopped. He gave the seemingly dozing Timelord a nudge and climbed out of bed.

'Come on, Doc!' He grinned, sitting on the chair to put his shoes on. 'Time we were leaving!'

The Doctor sat up and rubbed his eyes dozily. It wasn't like him to sleep much, but he felt rather disgruntled that he'd been deposed from his comfortable position. Sam had insisted they leave at 6 - before Gene had chance to burst through the door to send him on yet another case.

'Are you sure you don't want to say goodbye to your friends here? You're never going to see them again, you know?'

Sam paused for a moment, his shoelaces wrapped around his fingers. He looked up at the Doctor and shrugged.

'It'd take too much explaining.' He said grimly. 'They wouldn't understand. It's best that I just leave quietly.'

The Doctor sighed, knowing that Sam was probably right.

'In which case, we'd better get a move on.'

Sam smiled, getting up and putting on his jacket. He wasn't sure how he'd explain his new 'retro' look to his mum and everyone else in 2006 - but given the fact that his normal clothes had somehow been lost on the way to 1973, he'd have to think of something. He fastened the last button and smiled.

'Let's get out of here.'

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sam watched The Doctor, pulling at levers and pressing buttons manically. The TARDIS began to shudder, emitting a loud screeching sound as it began to take off. A sharp jolt caused Sam to clutch at a nearby rail to stop himself tumbling over and he laughed loudly.

'I should've put on my seatbelt!'

The Doctor smirked over the console, his foot holding down one lever whilst his hands fidgeted with another.

'Everyone says that! I never said time-travel was comfortable.'

'No chance of a refund, then?' Sam quipped, having to shout over the noise.

'TARDIS Airlines don't do refunds.' He chuckled.

There was a loud boom, and they touched down with a massive thump, causing the pair of them to fly backwards onto the grated flooring. Sam winced and touched the back of his head to make sure he wasn't bleeding. He examined the tips of his fingers before letting his head fall back, laughing almost hysterically. The Doctor closed his eyes and smiled, almost enjoying the sound of laughter that hadn't really filled his humble little ship since he'd left Rose, his last companion, in an alternate universe - unable to return. He smiled as memories rushed through his mind, only snapped from his thoughts by a gentle shove from Sam.

'Hey.' He said, as excited as a child on Christmas morning. 'Are we there, yet?'

The Doctor's eyes snapped open and he beamed, jumping to his feet.

'Let's have a look, shall we?'

He scrambled to the console, examining the screen.

'Well?'

The Doctor turned and grinned.

'2006. Manchester. Around - ooh - two hours before you had your accident?' He smiled, turning back to Sam. 'Just remember to use your Green Cross Code this time around, eh? I don't want to have to come and rescue you again.'

There was a look on Sam's face akin to disappointment.

'So, you're not going to come with me?' He questioned. 'Not even for a quick cup of coffee before you take off again?'

The Doctor shrugged slightly.

'I shouldn't really. I-'

'Please.' Sam said, touching The Doctor's shoulder lightly. The thought of leaving his new friend to be all alone again whilst he was reunited with his friends and family a little cruel, really. 'Just to let me say thanks.'

The Doctor sighed and rolled his eyes with mock annoyance.

'I suppose. If you insist.' He huffed. 'Although, you'd better make that a cup of tea. Teabags in 1973 weren't up to much, were they?'

'Ugh, you're telling me!' Sam grinned, before tugging at The Doctor's sleeve again. 'Come on then, Timelord. Cup of tea, it is.'

The Doctor grinned and followed Sam out of the door of the TARDIS, remembering to lock the door behind them.

'Brilliant!' Sam exclaimed, bounding eagerly up the road. 'We're just round the corner from Mum's house. C'mon!'

The Doctor tutted and ran after him.

'It's a bit early to be meeting the parents, isn't it? We've only just met!'

'Shut up, you.' Sam giggled breathlessly over his shoulder. 'I think she's got every right to meet the man who saved my life. And besides, you won't get a better cup of tea this side of Salford.'

'Yeah - I'd possibly refrain from mentioning anything about time travel or 1973. She'd probably have you committed.'

'You're probably right.' Sam smiled as he slowed down outside a semi-detatched house. 'This stupid ape isn't as stupid as he looks.'

The Doctor snorted and followed him up the neatly paved driveway, waiting behind Sam as he knocked on the white, double-glazed door. He bounced impatiently, muttering to himself about how his mum always took ages to answer the bloody door. Eventually, a blonde-grey haired woman appeared, and she let out one hell of a shriek as Sam flung his arms around her.

'Mam!' He cried, squeezing the poor woman as if his life depended on it.

'Ey!' She yelped, shoving him backwards and glaring at him with what certainly looked like terror in her eyes. 'Gerroff me, you nutter. Who the bloody 'ell do you think you are?'

The Doctor looked at her curiously, then to Sam, who was looking at the woman with wide eyes.

'But... Mam?'

The woman's brow furrowed and she shook her head.

'Sorry, love.' She said, unable to be too annoyed at the distressed looking young man, despite her initial fright. 'M'afraid you've got the wrong house.'

Sam laughed. A high-pitched, nervous laugh.

'Yeah, mam. Very funny. Let us in for a cuppa, will you? We're parched!'

'Listen, kidda.' She said sternly. 'I don't know who you are, but I am not your sodding mother, alright? Now gerroff my doorstep before I call the bloody police.'

'Mam!' He yelled as the door was swiftly slammed in his face. He sniffed, bashing the palm of his hand on the glass. 'Wait! Please!'

'Piss off, you nutter!' Came the disgruntled reply through the letterbox. 'You should be bloody locked up, scaring an old woman like that! Care in the bastard community, indeed. Get off my bloody drive!'

The letterbox flicked shut and Sam stepped backwards, staring at the door for a minute. The Doctor sighed and patted Sam's shoulder.

'Sam, I'm sorry.'

Sam snarled, batting The Doctor's hand away. He span around on his heels, shoving The Doctor backwards angrily.

'Is this some kind of pissing joke? Why doesn't she know who I am?!' He yelled, pointing backwards at the door. 'That's my mum in there - why doesn't she know me?!'

The Doctor's mouth opened and closed a few times, as if he was thinking of something clever to explain the whole thing. Of course, he couldn't. He'd taken Sam back to the year he belonged. The dimension he belonged. In all honestly, he truly had no idea what was going on.

'I don't know.' He said finally, shaking his head.

'Well why don't you bloody know?!' Sam shouted, backing The Doctor onto the pavement. 'You're the know-it-all bastard that brought me here - why can't you fucking fix it?'

'Because in all honesty, I have no idea what's happened, Sam!' The Doctor said gently, trying to get Sam to calm down. 'We're in the right place, at the right time - It should all be completely straightfoward.'

'But it isn't, Doctor!' Sam said, his voice crackling. 'My own bloody mother doesn't know who I am!'

The Doctor frowned, scuffing his feet against the asphalt.

'Well clearly, you don't belong here. There must have been some kind of dimensional shift when you had your accident that I hadn't taken into account.' He reasoned, clutching at straws. 'The only thing we can do is head back to 1973 and figure it out from there.'

'No..' Sam said forlornly, sniffing slightly. 'I can't go back there. _I can't_.'

'Only temporarily.' The Doctor said, trying to persuade him. 'Just while I figure all this out. Then we can try again and we can take you back where you belong.'

'And what if it doesn't work next time? And the time after that?' Sam almost wailed. 'Doctor, please. I just want to go _home_.'

The Doctor sighed, annoyed at his utter cluelessness on this particular subject. He always hated it when he didn't know about something - made him feel less intellectually superior than he knew he was.

'Right now, Sam,' He frowned. '1973 is the closest to home you have.'

Sam looked down, choking back a frightened sob. He pawed at his eyes and took a deep breath before looking back up at The Doctor, who was already reaching out to lead him back to the TARDIS. Sam grabbed his hand and stared into his eyes, a solitary tear sliding down his cheek.

'Just promise me you'll fix this.' He said through gritted teeth. 'Please. Just promise me.'

The Doctor nodded once and sighed, pulling Sam to his chest tentatively. Sam sniffed, his head spinning. He gripped onto The Doctor's coat and screwed his eyes shut, a sudden surge of steady beeps filling his mind again - loud enough to make him wince in discomfort. A voice rang out over the din, and he couldn't tell if it was his mother at some distant bedside or The Doctor.

'We'll get you home, Sam. I promise.'


	4. Chapter 4

'Where the 'ell have you been, Gladys?' Gene bellowed from the other side of the office.

The shouting didn't even register with Sam, who was staring, vacantly, at his desk. The Doctor nudged him sharply and slowly, he turned around just in time to see Gene glowering, red-faced from shouting, just inches away from his face. He frowned, shrugging slightly.

'Just - went to visit some relatives, Guv'.' He said quietly, before turning back around and resting his elbows on the desk. He scrubbed his cheeks and let out a long, slow breath.

The Doctor didn't even think he should've been in work - but Sam had insisted. Wanted to take his mind off things whilst The Doctor figured out a way to get him back home. Trouble was, The Doctor really didn't have any idea how to do it. The line about a dimensional shift worked in his head for a little while, but the chances of it actually were happening were nigh on impossible - considering how closed the routes between dimensions were, now. He weighed it up in his mind and concluded that it'd take more than a fight with a Ford Mondeo to send someone tumbling into another dimension.

He looked to his side to find Gene still standing there, arms folded. He could've sworn that a look of concern crossed his weathered features - but from his experience of Gene Hunt - That really wasn't all that likely. The broad man crouched down beside the desk and shoved Sam's shoulder.

'You sickenin' for summat?' He interrogated. 'Or 'ave you just spent too much time on the piss with yer _girlfriend_?'

The Doctor rolled his eyes and huffed, before realising he wasn't helping matters by looking rather camp and seemingly playing up to Gene's taunts.

'He's just feeling a bit grotty.' He said earnestly, patting Sam's shoulder.

'Mm?' Sam said quietly, not listening again. 'Sorry, what?'

'Oh for christ's sake, Tyler!' Gene snapped. 'Either you snap out of this 'angover or whatever it is and stop being a sodding fairy - or I'm gonna send you 'ome for being a bastard big fairy! Understood?'

'I'm alright, Guv'.' Sam said firmly 'Absolutely fine - Just didn't get much sleep last night, that's all.'

The Doctor winced at how that might've sounded - and noted the look of almost disgust on Gene's face which suggested he'd taken it the wrong way, too. The Guv' rose to his feet and shook his head.

'Alright, Tyler. What you get up to in your spare time, 'owever bloody depraved, is none of my concern. Just don't bring it into bloody work, right?' He ordered, before quipping. 'Oh wait. You already have. Soft bastard.'

'Mr. Hunt, I can assure you that you've been mista-'

'Shut it. Southern poof.' Gene snarled before stalking back towards his office, shouting in Annie's direction. 'Flash knickers! Brew! My Office! Now!'

The Doctor shook his head and chuckled. The Guv' might've been intimidating to some, but for some reason he found him rather endearing, in a boorish, scotch-swilling yob kind of way. He certainly had a way with words, that was sure - and who wouldn't admire that? He frowned, leaning on the desk, mirroring Sam. He leant down to his friend, who by now had his forehead resting on his forearms, and not looking particularly well.

'So - You don't remember anything about this place before the accident in 2006?'

'No.' Sam said grimly, not lifting his head. 'Look, I've been through this before - I've not got amnesia.'

'It's not that, Sam.' The Doctor said reassuringly. 'I know you've not got amnesia - those notes you wrote were far too in-depth for that. It's just -'

The Doctor paused, trying to think of the best way to explain without getting Sam wound up.

'I'm struggling.' He said, matter-of-factly. 'As far as I'm concerned - your mum should've recognised you in 2006. If indeed that was your mother.'

'If indeed _what_?' Sam snapped, sitting up sharply. 'Do you think I don't know who my own mother is? For god's sake - You think I'm mad too now, don't you?!'

'Not in the slightest.' The Doctor consoled, patting Sam's arm. 'I know what mad is. Trust me, I've_ seen_ mad. You're definitely not... it. All I'm saying, is that it might take me a while to figure this one out, unless..'

'Unless i what /i ?'

'I might be able to find something you've forgotten - if you'll let me.'

Sam looked consfused.

'Forgotten? Like how?'

'I can do - this_ thing.' _The Doctor explained, rather ineloquently for him. 'I can sort of - search your memories. Kind of like a hand-held Google. My hands. Google. Yes.'

Sam's nose crinkled.

'Your hands are Google?' He questioned, baffled. 'Are you on something, today?'

The Doctor let out a groan of exasperation.

'Right, Right.' He began again. 'I can create a psychic link between me and you - I can sort of - rifle through your brain and see if there's anything we're missing. I'm not saying it'll be particularly comfortable, though. Some people handle it in different ways. It helps if the person who's brain you're 'Googling'-' He said, creating speechmarks with his fingers. 'has a certain degree of trust.'

Sam nodded silently, mulling the prospect over.

'Do you trust me, Sam?'

'Yes.' He said simply. 'And I'm willing to try anything once - Anything to get me back where I belong.'

'Tonight, then.' The Doctor smiled. 'It can't hurt to give it a go.'

'Certainly can't.' Sam agreed, before being snapped out of the intense conversation by the sound of a mug being dropped onto the desk in front of him.

'Annie.' He grins.

'The Guv' says that he wanted you on a caffiene drip for the rest of the day - says you've gone funny in the 'ead.' She chides, punching his shoulder softly. 'You've not been goin' on about that coma thing again, have yer? I told you before - the Guv'll have you locked up if you start spouting that on his time.'

'I've not mentioned it, Annie.' Sam assured her, reaching out to squeeze her hand gently. 'Not to Gene, anyhow.'

Annie eyed the Doctor with suspicion, before turning back to Sam.

'Does _he_ know about it?'

'He does, yeah.' Sam admitted, nodding his head. 'And he's gonna help me get back home, too.'

'Oh, _Sam_ - How many times? You've had a knock to the 'ead. You're not from the bloody future, you fool. Why can't you just start living your life here and now?' She sighed, exasperated. She'd lost count of the amount of times she'd tried to reason with Sam on the subject. The poor boy just wouldn't be told.

She glared at The Doctor, shaking her head.

'And you shouldn't be encouraging him, you.' She scowled, wagging an accusing finger at him. 'He's a very sick man, and you're givin' 'im false hope, you are! It's bloody cruel.'

'I can assure you - I'm only trying to help.' The Doctor said, giving her his best toothy grin. The grin that had a tendency to melt girls' (and boys') hearts, if you believed what his ego said.

Annie just tutted at him.

'Shame on you, John Smith.' She frowned, strutting off with her best 'I'm-in-a-mood' walk.

Sam just smiled after her.

'Ooh, well that's me told.' The Doctor smirked. 'Oh, and look at that! I didn't get a cup of tea, either!'

'Well, I could always call her back to make you one.' Sam said chirpily, seeming a bit more like his usual self -before adding with a mischevious glint in his eye. 'Although the mood she's in with you, I can't guarantee there'd just be tea in it.'

'What, there'd be milk and sugar, too?'

'Oh, ha-bastard-ha.' He sneered, before gulping a mouthful of coffee. 'Mmmm. Coffee. Tasty, sweet Coffee. Ohhh, don't you wish you had one, Doctor? Tasty hot brew? Mmmmmmmm.'

'Bugger off.' The Doctor smirked. 'You wouldn't like me when I'm... When I don't get.. tea.'

'Oooh!' Sam mocked, flapping his hands in faux-fright. 'I'm soo-'

'TYLER!'

Sam yelped and flung half a cup of coffee over his leg. He'd been so involved in his Doctor-baiting that he hadn't noticed Gene, who'd managed to creep up on him. Quite a feat in itself, considering Gene didn't know the meaning of 'softly softly'.

'Bastard!'

'Well, I'd take you to the dry cleaners, but we've got a robbery in process down Natwest on the 'igh street. Y'can bring yer missus if you want - show the southern ponce 'ow we do it up 'ere. Either way, I need your arses in gear now.' He yelled out as he walked away. 'All 'ands on deck, lads!'

Sam leapt to his feet and raced after Gene, and The Doctor (albeit a little reluctantly - A stray bullet and a regeneration would make for some bloody explaining) soon followed, climbing into the Cortina before Gene put his foot down and all three men sped away from the station at breakneck speed. The Doctor cautiously fastened his seatbelt, listening to the yowling siren of the squad car behind them.

It felt like mere seconds had passed by the time they came to a skidding halt outside the rear entrance of the bank.

'Right. We've got 'Arry Johnson - One of our regulars. 'E's been planning this for weeks, apparently. Funnily enough, they're a man down - We got 'im in for a friendly chat and this afternoon 'e finally spilt his guts.'

Sam cringed, knowing exactly what one of Gene's _friendly chats_ were like.

'They'll be out of there, any second - Suspects to be considered armed and dangerous, so you'd both better be tooled up to the eyeballs, right?'

The younger man in the passenger seat nodded and unfastened his coat, missing The Doctor's recoil as he pulled out a handgun from the holster around his waist. The Doctor didn't like guns - never had. Weapons like that only led to trouble, escalation of the problem.

'C'mon, Daisy - We haven't got all day!' Gene bellowed over the back of his seat, leaving The Doctor to stare at him, mouth agape. 'Where's your shooter?'

'I - ah. I don't have one, er - Guv'.'

The DCI looked distainfully at his two charges and growled.

'Useless set of bastards, the pair of yer.' He glared, before reaching over Sam's legs and opening the glove compartment by his knees. He pulled out a dark handgun, and carefully held it out to The Doctor. 'Good job I brought a spare innit, Smith?'

Slender fingers curled around the handle, disguising a shudder with a cough as he drew it close to his body. Gene eyeballed him and remarked grumpily.

'Jesus. It's a good job there's not a lot of chance you're going to have to use that bloody thing - any one of us could lose a bastard eyeball, the way you're holding that thing. Maybe we should've brought Flash Knickers out with us instead - Might've been more use than a chocolate bleedin' fireguard like you.'

'Guv', give 'im a break, yeah? He's new.'

'No. No.' The Doctor stammered slightly. 'I'm alright - It's fine. I can do the job.'

'I 'ope for all our sakes that you're right, lad.' Gene said sternly before getting out of the car. 'Right, lads. Get in position, alright? We need to get our 'ands on these bastards, whatever 'appens.'

Sam nodded obediently, and stood behind the open car door - waiting. Waiting for the call to action - to fight. The Doctor half-crouched beside the boot, the gun cocked and ready in unsteady hands. He willed the men about to burst through the door not to run. Give themselves up and save the bloodshed. His train of thought could be quite childlike at times - He knew deep down that they'd got this far and it was unlikely that they'd give themselves up now, even when faced with Gene Hunt on their tails. He knew that there was nothing more dangerous than a desperate man - he'd been there himself.

He gulped and tightened his grip - sensing that the men were getting close, and it was all about to 'kick-off', as Gene would say. He gripped his weapon tighter, the clutching feeling at his insides just telling for all it was worth just to get up and run. Run away before someone gets hurt. He never had been any good in battle, he supposed - until the duty was all but forced upon him. A bit like what was happening at that moment, really.

'OI!'

The tense silence was shattered by the sound of Gene, yelling after the men as they burst through the door. The robbers opened fire first, causing Gene, Sam and The Doctor to dive behind the nearest metal object to hand. That gave them enough time to get a head start - clearly racing for an unseen getaway car. Once the shots ceased, Gene and Sam scrambled to their feet in unison, chasing after the masked criminals, guns at the ready. The Doctor frowned and joined them, much slower than the other two had taken off. He fought to keep up as they swerved around a tight alleyway, feet skidding against gravel whilst the burly men barrelled away from them. Gene trained his gun on them at all times - ready to fire the minute the moment occured, but then - It happened. One man paused at the top of the alley, and let off a pot-shot in their direction.

The rest seemed to happen in slow-motion, but it could only have been a split second. The Doctor could see where the bullet was heading and dived forward, shoulderbarging Sam to the floor with his arm outstretched. A second gunshot exploded - the sound bouncing off the enclosed walls, making it sound a lot louder than it actually was. Gene was still standing, from what The Doctor could see - and the others must've taken off by now. He let out a breath he'd been holding in and looked down. Sam looked up at him, fingers curled around the sleeves of his long coat.

'Did you just save my life?' Sam queried with a slight smile.

'Ahm.' The Doctor stumbled, itching at his ear - a little compulsion that Sam had noticed when The Doctor got excited. 'I might've?'

They stared at each other - probably for longer than was strictly neccasary. All breathless chuckles, clutching at each other's clothing just to make sure they were both still there. The only thing that managed to break the strange, yet comfortable silence was the sound of two gunshots -and the sound of two bodies hitting the floor.

'When you two have quite finished?' Gene growled. 'You'd better radio for an ambulance. I think there's a couple of blokes up there might need new kneecaps.'

'Two?' The Doctor questioned, climbing to his feet and dusting the muck off his trousers before extending his hand to assist a prone Sam to his feet. 'What happened to the third one?'

'Now, _that,' _Gene said, turning to the Timelord. 'I thought you might be able to answer.'

The Doctor looked, perplexed, at Gene before looking up the alleyway.

There were three bodies laying at the other end - and Gene only shot two of them. Two of the men were clearly injured - writhing on the floor and clutching their damaged legs. The other, the one in the middle - lay sprawled across the rough ground. He could see a darkness spreading from the man's side and over the light grey stones - he really didn't want to even think about what that might be. He swallowed, felt physically nauseous for the first time in he didn't know how long.

'No.' He whispered, before starting to run towards the three men.

His collar was yanked soundly by Gene, pinning him to the spot. He strained angrily against the grip and yelled over his shoulder.

'Let me go! I have to try and help!'

'Have you got a bloody death wish or summat, kidda?' He said gruffly, shaking his head. 'There's still live firearms up there, and you, butterfingers - have dropped yours somewhere while you were playing Superman. I go up there and secure the area, and I'll let you know when it's safe. Right, Daisy?'

'But he might be-'

'Wait for my word, and that's a bastard order.' Gene snarled, shoving The Doctor back while he moved forward. Slow yet threatening. He could hear vague pieces of what he was saying - telling them that if they wanted help, and to keep their other kneecaps - they'd better not try anything divvish. He could hear Sam radioing for the ambulances whilst Gene carefully booted the men's firearms, placing them well out of arm's reach. He looked back down towards The Doctor and gestured for him to come forward. He ran towards the man, thinking he could do something to help.

Sam followed sombrely behind, knowing that he couldn't.

The Doctor clamped a hand to his mouth and fell to one knee. The man stared blankly up at him, his mouth hanging open awkwardly and a trickle of blood dribbling from the side of it. He composed himself for a moment and shook the man's shoulder gently.

'Hey. Can you hear me?'

Gene rolled his eyes and frowned down at The Doctor, shaking his head.

'You're too late, Smith. He's a gonner.'

'Shut up, Gene.' The Doctor replied, panicked as he felt the man's neck for a pulse. He leaned over, about to try and give mouth to mouth when the body expelled a final, un-lifelike gargle - blood spurting forth and causing the Timelord to snap his head backwards to avoid getting caught by it.

'Told you.'

'Shut up.' The Doctor snarled through gritted teeth. Unpeturbed, he pulled off his jacket before ripping a segment of the sleeve of his shirt, pressing it to the man's wound that was still pumping all over the gravel. The crimson liquid soaked through onto the fingers of one hand, and he pressed the other to the man's temple, muttering to himself.

_There's got to be something there. Please - just let me know you're still there. _

The silence inside his head was never more agonising. Gene was right - The man had long-since expired, and he had blood all over his hands again. He had to try and fix it - it couldn't happen again. His fingers pushed against the man's temples again, harder - but all he was doing was grasping out at nothing. He almost leapt out of his skin when Sam grasped his shoulders, kneeling down beside him.

'He's gone, Doc.' He said quietly. 'There's nothing you can do.'

'But I - I just - I need to-' He sputtered softly, examining the dark, thick liquid that covered his hands. 'I - I can't just -'

'First kill's always the worst.' Gene said, quite reasonably. 'Once you get to the tenth, lad - it in't so bad.'

'That's what you think.' The Doctor said angrily, about to lay into the Guv' before being quickly silenced by Sam, shaking his shoulder.

'Guv', can I take him away from here? I swear, I'll do every bit of paperwork once I get into the office - I just don't think it's doing anybody any good just now, eh?'

Gene glared at him and groaned, rolling his eyes.

'For christ's sake, Gladys. You're bloody right doin' all the paperwork on this one, sunshine - You're gonna have to come up with an explaination as to why we've got a ruddy corpse on our 'ands. We can't tell 'em we let the new boy have a gun and he let it off by accident. We do not need a bloody investigation team breathing down our necks right now.'

'I'll sort it, Guv'.' Sam agreed, pulling The Doctor to his feet.

'Go on, then.' He said dryly. 'Piss off.'

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Doctor stood, hunched over the bathroom sink in Sam's bedsit, staring at the blood that was still staining his hands. It wouldn't come off. It never did. The water ran scalding hot and he continued to scrub - the soap suds streaked with pink as they swirled down the drain. He growled, the coarse bristles of the brush now scoring bloody streaks in his flesh with the sheer pressure of his motions.

It had to come off.

_All of it._

'Doctor?' Sam called gently, tapping his knuckles on the door. 'You've been in there ages.'

'It won't come off.' Came the tremulous reply. 'I've tried - and it won't bloody come off!'

'Oh jesus..' Sam muttered. He'd seen this before - he vaguely remembered. New lad on the force got caught up in a local gang fight - shot one of the leaders stone dead with a single bullet.

He left the force soon after that - Pretty much melted his brain to the point where he figured his true career lay in interior design. It was a shame, really. Always seemed like such a strong, straightforward bloke before that. Sam hadn't really figured that The Doctor would react just as badly - Sort of saw him as a bit of a hero, as odd as that sounded. And as callous as the thought was - this was the same Doctor who had destroyed an entire race of people. Two races, actually. It didn't really compute in Sam's mind that something like this would bother him so much. He took a deep breath, and tapped on the door again.

'Doctor. Can you let me in?'

There was some vague clattering from the other side, then the door slowly creaked open. The Doctor looked terrible - face ruddy, cheeks damp. He was biting down on his lip so hard the skin was turning white. His eyes travelled downwards, to the two shaking hands hanging at his sides. Blood dripped in thin rivulets down his fingers and off the tips, onto the pale green bathroom carpet. Sam gasped, muttering an obscenity to himself before looking back up to the Doctor's almost manic expression.

'It just - It wouldn't come off.' He repeated. 'It wouldn't.'

'Hey, shh.' Sam soothed, taking hold of an undamaged part of The Doctor's wrist and leading him back through to the living room-cum-bedroom, sitting him on the bed carefully. 'Let's get this cleaned up, eh?'

The other man nodded once, rocking slightly in his seat. He could still see the man, eyes staring right through him. One more victim to add to the list. He was the great destroyer - no matter how far he ran to escape the dubious moniker.

Sam sat down beside him and opened up an old quality street tin, pulling out two rolls of bandages, cotton wool and some dettol. He gently took The Doctor's hand and rested it on his knee before dousing the wool. He looked up before he applied it to the raw-looking skin and frowned.

'This might sting a bit.' He warned, before applying it gingerly to the wound.

'FACK!' The Doctor shrieked, struggling not to pull his hand away immediately and sounding tremendously more cockney than he did a few minutes earlier.

Sam couldn't help but let out a surprised laugh.

'Blimey. Must've hurt.' He smiled slightly. 'First time I've actually heard you swear properly.'

'Because I'm a gent, Sam.' The Doctor replied, almost mirthlessly.

'That you are, Doc.' Sam said, stooping his head to disguise the coy smirk that was spreading over his features. 'Fond of helping out strangers, too. That's pretty admirable.'

'Yeah.' The Doctor said, sniffing slightly. 'Quite good at killing them, too. Or hadn't you noticed?'

'It was an accident.' He replied gently, dabbing the last of the angry looking scrapes with the cotton-wool before looking back up. 'There was nothing you could've done.'

'I could've not had the gun in the first place, Sam.' He said in earnest, shaking his head. 'Listen - I know what happens after this. It's happened before.'

'What are you talking about?'

'We're getting too close - you and me.' He said quietly. 'The last time that happened, I - I lost someone I cared about very much. I know I said I'd help you, but - I'm getting a really bad feeling, Sam. If I don't get out of your life, now - I think something very bad might happen to you.'

'What, and you'd just_ leave_ me?' Sam said, eyes widening. 'You promised you'd get me back home, Doctor! You can't promise that and then run off as soon as things get rough. I won't let you!'

'What would you rather, Sam? Would you rather stay here and build a life for yourself - or have something awful happen to you while we're here, clutching at straws to figure out a way to get you to the place you belong. We don't even know where that is, do we? Maybe - Maybe it's time you just cut your losses and make the most of what you have now.'

Sam scowled as he carefully wrapped the bandage around The Doctor's hand.

'You _coward_.' He spat. 'You _fucking_ coward.'

The Doctor winced, carefully pulling his hand away and swapping it with the other. Sam continued to wrap his hands up gently. He was such a caring man - even though he was unbelievably angry, he was still taking every effort not to hurt him. He didn't deserve this - but neither did he deserve to end up in whatever mess that was sure to follow The Doctor as it always did. Unavoidably.

'Maybe I am.' The Doctor said finally. 'But you have to understand, that it's because I don't want anything to happen to you, Sam. I - I care about you a great deal and if anything happened to you,' He coughed, covering his tracks slightly as he continued 'or - or anyone else here for that matter, I'd never forgive myself. And who knows, maybe you might figure out how to get home yourself, eh?'

The look that Sam gave him was almost heartbreaking. He carefully fastened the safety pin on the bandage, but kept The Doctor's hand where it was.

'I've already tried that.' He said quietly, shaking his head. 'The fact is, I can't get anywhere other than here unless I've got you. You can't abandon me now. I _need _you. You're the only one who might be able to get me back home.'

The Doctor sighed, eyes downcast - his reddened eyes beginning to glisten again.

'You don't, Sam.' He said shakily, sniffing loudly. 'Believe me - you really don't. Not if you want to get through this alive.'

'Doctor.' Sam said firmly. 'I want to go back to 2006 - and the way I'm feeling at the minute, if it all goes tits up and I get killed in the process - it's no great loss. I just can't sit around here, in the poxy little bedsit, wondering what might've been if I'd have at least taken the risk and tried to get back there.'

'You don't mean that, Sam!' The Doctor cried, 'You could really make a name for yourself here. You could get to 2006 - It'd just take you a little bit longer to get there, that's all.'

'Don't patronise me, Doctor.' Sam said sharply, before reaching up and carefully placing a hand on the back of The Doctor's neck. 'If you're getting out of here - you're taking me with you. So either you stay here and help me get home, or you're stuck with me on-board that sodding blue box of yours.'

The worrying thing was, that to The Doctor - that didn't sound like such a bad prospect. Only the thought of Sam's limited lifespan put him off - after Rose, he wasn't sure that he could lose another one. Especially considering the strange (and deeply frightening) way he'd become so attached, so quickly. It certainly wasn't something he was expecting.

'Alright.' The Doctor reneged. 'I'll stay, and I'll do what I can to send you back where you came from - but then, you have to let me go. I never stay in one place for too long - and I've already outstayed my welcome here. Alright, Sa-'

He was interrupted by a pair of lips pressing against his own. He was taken aback by the initial, but certainly not unpleasant contact and he sighed slightly. Sam tasted like coffee and mints and for some reason The Doctor found himself questioning why this hadn't happened before - it came rather naturally, scarily enough.

Sam pulled back first, his lips still just hovering over The Doctor's and his forehead pressed against his.

'Uhm - I -' The Doctor fumbled, tongue darting out to whet his lips. 'What was that for?'

'Saving my life.' Sam grinned mischeviously.

'So - what happens if I end up saving it again?'

'Well,' Sam drawled, running his thumb and forefinger down the blue collar of The Doctor's shirt. 'I suppose that's for me to know, and for you to find out.'

'Is this a cunning ruse to make sure I stay?' He grinned darkly, reaching up to dust an unscathed finger over Sam's lower lip.

'Is it working?' Sam enquired.

'Ahm..' The Doctor pondered for a moment, before nodding. 'Yeah. Yeah, it is a bit.'

'In which case - Yeah. Absolutely.' Sam smirked.

'You know what - I think I was wrong about you.' The Doctor remarked, still staring straight into Sam's eyes. 'You really are bonkers.'

'Oh, I know.' Sam laughed softly, before tugging the Doctor down onto the bed - careful to keep his damaged hands out of harm's way.

'I was just waiting to see how long it took you to notice.'


End file.
